


The New York Times

by kbirb



Series: Little AUs, as requested by my tumblr followers [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Newspaper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbirb/pseuds/kbirb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wants to go muckraking, Bucky's the boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New York Times

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon on tumblr, who requested a newspaper muckraking AU.

Bucky and Steve had been friends since Bucky could remember. Their moms worked together, night shifts at the hospital. Bucky’s dad was an Ivy League graduate (Yale) and worked in a high end company. Steve’s dad wasn’t around much. According to Steve, he travelled, but Bucky never really questioned it. The two boys spent every moment together.

Steve was always the more creative one. When they played make pretend, Steve always spun the best stories to play. And he could draw. If you wanted to find Steve Rogers, you looked two places: Bucky’s apartment or the fire escape outside of Steve’s bedroom window. He’d sit up there with his sketchbook, and draw the city skyline. As they got older, his talent grew, and Bucky would happily sit there with him and watch him draw.

Throughout school, Steve was always one of the smaller kids. And one of the smarter ones. So, it was up to Bucky to stick up for Steve… and up to Steve to keep Bucky’s grades up. It wasn’t that Bucky wasn’t intelligent, he just lacked Steve’s intense diligence with schoolwork. But, if Bucky didn’t go to an Ivy League school, he had a feeling his dad might just disown him.

The years passed, and Bucky got into Yale. His dad was proud, of course, but it meant moving away. Steve got into Pratt, and even got amazing scholarships. He was going to pursue his art, and maybe writing. They promised to write to each other, and Steve came over to help him pack before he moved away. Pratt wasn’t too far of a commute, so Steve was just going to stay in his mom’s apartment and take care of her. She’d been getting sick and Steve, ever caring, wanted to be there.

The problem was, writing letters didn’t seem to fit into Bucky’s schedule. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. Not talking to Steve killed him. But he made new friends, and Ivy League classes were really hard. Over the years, letters were an inconvenience, and the weekly phone calls started to dwindle, and last only a few minutes if they did happen. Summers could be awkward. Steve would include Bucky in his adventures with his own friends, but Bucky felt a little excluded from that world. Then, Bucky got an internship at a company near Yale, and didn’t come home the summer between their Junior and Senior year. 

When Bucky graduated with a degree in business from Yale, Steve was in the crowd. And when Steve graduated from Pratt with a degree in illustration and a degree in writing, Bucky sat proudly with Sarah Rogers’. 

About two months later, after Bucky had settled into his own apartment in New York, Sarah Rogers’ died. Everything caught up with her, and she died in the hospital bed with Steve by her side. He went to her funeral with his best friend, and promised him he’d check in the very next day. And every day, because they were friends ‘til the end of the line, and he knew Steve loved his mother more than he loved anyone else.

So, Bucky continued to check in on Steve for about a week, until one day, when Bucky knocked on the door, no one answered. Five times more, he knocked. Finally, he slid aside the plant by the door and grabbed the key from beneath. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside. The place was… bare. Furniture still there, but no photos on the walls, no clothes in the drawers. Walking into the kitchen, Bucky found a note the table, hastily scrawled in Steve’s messing script. Bucky felt his heart sink into his stomach, and he picked up the piece of paper.

Hey, Buck. Sorry for leaving, but I just can’t stay in this apartment, in this city, when it’s just something that will remind me of my mom. I promise I’ll write to you, and I want you to know I decided to go to Chicago. Leaving the city behind… it’s hard. Leaving you behind… That’s hard because (something scribbled out) you’re my best friend. Don’t be mad. Yours, Steve  
The letters from Steve were few and far between. Bucky tried contacting Natasha, Steve’s closest college friend, but she wasn’t helpful. Either lying, or Steve wasn’t talking to her either. You could never tell with that red head; something about her screamed “lots of secrets.” The letters Bucky did receive told him very little about Steve’s new life, and they never had a return address. They stopped, eventually.

Ten years would pass before the friends saw each other again. In that time, Bucky began a job at The New York Times thanks to a recommendation for his advisor at Yale, and slowly began to rise in the company thanks to his business degree. Eventually, he got a position on the board of directors for the paper. He was part of a political committee as well.

\--

Chicago had been good for Steve, these past ten years. Now, that didn’t mean he didn’t miss New York. And Bucky. And Nat. But, he couldn’t have stayed. In the week following his mom’s death, life felt wrong. It was like his life was upside down and he couldn’t seem to figure out how to flip it back. So, he'd left, which was the opposite of what he'd usually do. If he couldn't right his life, he'd live it upside down.

So, he’d found a shit apartment, packed up his stuff, got in his mom’s car, and left. Once he hit Chicago, he sold the car (he’d never understood why she had it, city driving is hell), and used the money to pay for rent. After that, he survived off of freelancing. Sarah Rogers’ had taught her son how to budget, the best foods to eat to live, and how to sell his pieces. So, he freelanced articles for any news source that would take him and art for any company who needed him. Building from that, Steve found a niche in political reporting and sometimes political cartooning. Steve’s grandfather, ex military man, had instilled a belief in his grandson about a less corrupt America. A free country that was truly free, and Steve used these ideals to make a name for himself in Chicago’s journalism community. It took about two years, but Steve got a job at The Chicago Tribune.

After 8 years at the paper, Steve was the Section Editor for the politics section at the Tribune. His staff was solid and he was starting to feel like it was time to move on. Or, move back. To New York, where he belonged. A young reporter had been moving up in the paper, the way Steve had. He suggested to the Editor in Chief of the paper to give America Chavez a shot at his job. A fresh face for the section, a touch of diversity. He ate it up and promoted her on the spot.

As for Steve, he had applied to a few of the bigger New York papers, and found a place to live. Natasha, a friend of his from college, needed a new cosigner for her lease. They had stayed slightly in touch and so when she heard he wanted to move back, she happily offered Steve a place. She was now a detective in the homicide department of the NYPD, and lived with three other officers. The other woman was moving in with her fiance, so Steve could live in her room.

Steve and Nat had met during his sophomore year of college, while she was in a ballet that he was covering for Pratt’s newspaper. Her interview had gone well, and they grew close afterwards. He’d been the one to help her realize she didn’t love ballet, was only doing it because her mom wanted that for her. She ended up deciding on law enforcement, and always credited Steve to helping her towards a happier path.

Steve moved back to New York, and into Natasha’s nice Manhattan apartment. Her roommates were nice, and were obviously close friends. The woman, Alex, told him to take care of the gang. “I’m kind of their sense of reason, probably about 85% of their impulse control?” She joked.

Clint, the blonde, was a Detective in the Robbery department. He had an easy going personality and told a lot of jokes. When Steve moved in, Clint’s partner was there to help. She was young and introduced herself as Kate. Apparently, she was Clint’s apprentice (if cops had apprentices) and was promoted to his partner.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t an officer at all. He actually worked in the forensics lab for the force. As he carried in boxes with Steve, he explained that he was ex military, having been discharged after his co-pilot died and he couldn’t imagine fighting alongside anyone else. So, he went to school for forensics, and got a job with the NYPD. He also led a support group for other ex-military in Manhattan. “You should write a piece on us!” Steve promised he’d try.

The first night was all Chinese food and getting to know his new roommates. The four of them fit well together, and Steve felt secure being back in New York. It was good to be home.

“Have you contacted the tall handsome one yet?” Natasha asked. She was on the sofa with Clint, feet propped on his lap, scarping the last remains of her lo mein out with chopsticks.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Whose Bucky?” Sam asked.

“The only person Steve likes more than me,” Natasha joked. “Did you know he always pestered me about you? Didn’t back off for a year.”

“Yeah, uh, sounds like Buck.” Steve’s chest felt heavy. He hadn’t even contacted Bucky, honestly. It just didn’t sound like a good idea. They’d always promised to be friends until the end of the line, but then Steve had abandoned him. How could they bounce back from that?

The next morning, Steve had an interview with The New York Times. The interview team, consisted of the Editor in Chief and most members of the Political Committee of the corporate team for the paper. They apologized for the absence of the head of the committee; apparently, he was away for his yearly “4th of July Weekend Trip to the Hamptons.” The way they said it, Steve could see it as an important title, with capitalized letters. When he talked to people, he often sketched pictures in his head or imagined headlines. Steve was personable, telling them he didn’t mind, and joked about it ruining his chances. Internally, he was thinking about the absurdity of corporate employees.

A week later, and he was given a position as the Political Section Editor at The Times.

\--

When Bucky came back to work, he had a meeting with his political committee to discuss a new employee they had hired. The whole meeting, he could barely focus, to the point of missing the new hire’s name.

“Yeah, he sounds great, when does he start again?” He asked absentmindedly.

“Today, would you like to meet with him?” Bucky’s executive assistant, Miranda, was always eager to please.

“No, it should be fine.”

Due to this, Bucky didn’t know that Steve Rogers had been hired to work for The Times until a few weeks into his employment.

\--

Steve still hadn’t meet the corporate head of the political committee, but he was desperate to. It wasn’t because of who the person was, but because of an idea Steve had. In the years he’d been away, New York’s politics had certainly gone downhill, and Steve wanted to dig up dirt.

“Muckraking, really?” One of Steve’s staff members, Cass, was constantly by his side. It was almost enduring. He did worry the journalist was developing a crush on him.

“Yeah, muckraking. Can you imagine if The Times was the one to dig up the dirt on our governor?” Steve hadn’t been this excited about a story in years.

“Yeah but… No one is going to want to write that.”

“Then I will. I just need the permission, which means I need to meet with that damn corporate committee’s head.”

Cass’ eyes sparkled. “Ooooh, James.”

The staff in Steve’s department was so frustrating about the higher ups. Steve was sure they didn’t do this to their faces, but he literally didn’t even know his bosses’ last name at this point.

“Yeah, James.”

“Well, he’s been back from vacation, I can schedule a meeting for you?” Miranda, the executive assistant to Steve’s illusive boss, had been checking in on Steve’s staff.

“Our new section editor has requested a meeting with you.” Miranda said, sticking her head into Bucky’s office.

“Alright, call him up.”

About an hour later, Miranda popped her head in. “He’s here. And, since you never did ask, his name is Steve and he is cute.”

Steve froze as he read the name on the door. “James Barnes.”

Hesitantly, he walked through the door, and sure enough, there he was.

“Uh, hey Buck.”

\--

Bucky looked up to see Steve Rogers standing in front of his desk. He was wearing a suit, and a pen from his favorite brand was tucked into the pocket. Or, what was his favorite brand, when Bucky had last seen him.

“Ten years,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “Ten years that you don’t talk to me, and then you come into my office as an employee.

Steve visibly swallowed. “I’m -”

“Miranda, close the door. I need to talk to our new employee.”

\--

Steve could have sworn Bucky was going to fire him. He was doing that thing he’d always done when he was upset. His hands would flew and his leg would start bouncing. At first, he just stared at Steve.

Then, they talked. Not about their lives, but about work. Steve gave Bucky his proposal, and the only hint of their old friendship was Bucky saying “always the American idealist.” Steve lamented on the political corruption of New York, and Bucky seemed to agree with him. 

Two months later, and The Times had released the biggest article New York had seen in the political section of their papers.

Bucky and Steve celebrated at Steve’s place, much to Natasha’s joy. In the time since Steve had stepped into Bucky’s office, they had been working on repairing their friendship, and trying to make up for ten years.

It was weird, meeting Steve’s new roommates and catching up. Clint was alright, a bit annoying, and Sam seemed to be really happy to have Bucky around. Natasha, as always, was a pleasure.

Steve had grown a lot during college, so last they’d seen each other he’d been taller than Bucky. But while he was in Chicago, he’d filled out his shape. A lot had definitely changed. But his sketches were hung all over his and Nat’s room.

The building had a fire escape, so the two of them would climb out their for old times’ sakes. It was a great feeling to sit out there with Steve again, while he sketched and they talked. The fire escape was also where Steve told Bucky he loved him when they were kids. And the first place Bucky worked up the courage to lean over and kiss his best friend.

He almost punched Clint when they climbed back into the apartment last night. The blonde man just had this shit eating grin on his face. But, he was too happy to have Steve back.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the weird Steve-moves-away thing. I 100% know it's probably not what Steve would do, but the point was that he wasn't acting like Steve. That's why I liked that his life was upside down, and he had no way to right it. || DISCLAIMER: I own no claim to these characters, all rights go to Marvel and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I do not own, nor do I associate with, any newspapers written into this work.


End file.
